How Was Your Last Haircut?

Delicious!

I indicate it went really well. My friend Alis who cuts my hair took off about four inches and gave me choppy layers.

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When she was done I felt like I’d lost 15 pounds, LOL!

Sigh… If it were only that easy (she said, reaching across her desk for another dark chocolate star cookie from Trader Joe’s…).

So my hair hasn’t been this short in three or four years. I’m delighted with it for now, but you know how it goes… I’m already thinking about growing it out again to give myself something to do.

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Hair goals.

Now that I think about it, I haven’t had a horrible haircut experience in a while (knocks on wood), thanks to Alis at Fox + stone Salon. I used to bounce around between stylists all the time, because it was hard finding someone who knew how to discipline and control my wavy hair. whenever I went to a new stylist I’d get stressed out. I never knew if I’d leave the place with something passably respectable or full-on wonktacular.

It only took, oh, 30 or so years to find someone who really understood my hair, and now we’re at the point where I know I can just sit in the chair and depend on Alis to do whatever she wants, and I’ll be good to go.

How about you? how was your last haircut? Did it go well, or was it a bit of a nightmare? Inquiring minds want to know.

I’ve literally lost count of how lots of times I’ve enjoyed this movie, but whenever I see it on Netflix I hit play. It’s as if forces from above take control of me and make me enjoy it…

Yet every single time I do see it I’m in awe of Holly Golightly’s fashion sense, and I think to myself, “Why can’t I look that cool?”

So I think I’m going to institute something new in my personal fashion life called the Holly Golightly Litmus test where I ask, “Would Holly Golightly wear this?”

Starting with this Sam Edelman leopard coat…

Happy Friday from (once again) rainy northern California! I feel like somebody has taken my little patch of hillside and transported it to Portland without me knowing it.

Whatever you’re up to today, I hope your feet are warm and dry, because wet socks = misery.

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Your friendly neighborhood appeal addict,

Karen

P.S.